mornings in summer

the first decision- to linger in bed with my book or pull back the covers that hold off this morning’s chill

the thought of a steaming cup of coffee, around which i can wrap my hands and heat my fingers convinces me to sit up and stretch

the trick then is to move with soft feet so others do not wake

though the creak in the third stair and dog waiting at the landing make that goal challenging- every day

coffee in hand i head to the porch in front where the sun rising beyond the still glassy bay heats the air

and the stars from the light that dance on the water’s surface delight me now just as they did when I was small

the beach is empty and boats are mostly still and the day’s breeze has yet to wake up

neighbors next door sit in rockers on their porch, holding mugs also and talking in hushed voices

the cat wanders in and out from the porch door that has swollen just enough to prevent it from closing fully

my eye wanders to the screen that needs replacing and a tuft of fur- dog or cat – drifting across the painted porch floor

book or paper in hand, i choose my seat depending on the sun, looking for just a little more warmth

small, unimportant decisions and slow movement

mornings in summer